


Dressed in White Noise

by QuokkaFoxtrot



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Barebacking, Bloody Mary AU, Blow Jobs, British English, Canon-Typical Violence, General au, Humor, Little Spoon Handsome Jack, M/M, New-U stations aren't canon? Lies., Nobody gets STIs or UTIs AU, Pining, Programmer Rhys, Questioning Reality, Spooning, Very vague Alt-BL2 universe, only somewhat graphic, playing fast and loose with make-believe future technology, the time honored tradition of making shit up, very brief - Freeform, yeah you heard me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuokkaFoxtrot/pseuds/QuokkaFoxtrot
Summary: "I wasn't alone," Rhys says, sitting up straight and staring at the mirror. "I did it. I did the Handsome Jackie. He washere.""Howharddid you hit your head?" Yvette asks, tilting Rhys' head back to check his eyes."That happenedafter," Rhys says, pushing himself to his knees and waving his hand in front of the mirror. "He was in the mirror. He called meCupcake."---AKA the Bloody Mary AU nobody asked for.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89





	Dressed in White Noise

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a dumb 1k AU but it turned into a dumb 11k AU.
> 
> Title from Strict Machine by Goldfrapp because naming thing bad at doing.

The credits rolled on the horror holo, sharp violins shrieking in the background as Rhys collapses against Vaughn snorting with glee.

"It's so _bad_ ," Rhys snickers, reaching for his drink and downing the last drops. "The Captain Haunt costume was too big and the sets _wobbled_. I can't believe this is your favourite Bloody Harvest movie, Vaughn."

"I never said it was my _favorite_ ," Vaughn counters. "I said it scared me as a child."

"It scared you about five seconds ago," Yvette points out, standing and wobbling over to Rhys' small kitchen to refill her glass. 

"Like you've never been scared," Vaughn grumbles, holding out his glass for Yvette.

"Nope. Never," Rhys says, striking a heroic pose, something Handsome Jack would be proud of. "I am a paragon of courage."

"You don't even know what paragon means." Yvette dangles the bottle in front of Rhys' face. "You're so fearless, go do a Handsome Jackie."

Rhys freezes, nearly dropping the bottle as he pours. 

"Ha! You should see your face," Vaughn hoots. "You're white as a sheet. You look so scared, Bro."

"I'm not- I'm-" Rhys clears his throat and takes a deep swig before continuing. "I'm not scared. I just... don't think we should mock Handsome Jack."

"He's been dead four years," Yvette points out.

" _Missing_ ," Rhys emphasises. "He's been _missing_ four years. No one knows what happened to him."

"He _died_ , Rhys. _That's_ what happened to him." Yvette rolls her eyes. "Nobody 'goes missing' in R&D, they die horribly and everyone gets NDA'ed into oblivion or _killed_."

"You believe what you want," Rhys says, taking another large gulp. " _I_ believe that, dead or not, Handsome Jack can and will murder anyone who even _thinks_ about mocking him."

"Do the Handsome Jackie and I'll buy you lunch," Yvette says in a singsong.

"That's a sucker's bet," Rhys says with a pout. "Either I _don't_ do the Handsome Jackie, and you don't buy me lunch, or I _do_ do the Handsome Jackie, am _horribly murdered in my own bathroom_ , and you still don't buy me lunch."

"You're not gonna get murdered in your bathroom," Vaughn says, words slurring as he pours another drink. "You're gonna go in there, do the Han'sum Jackie, then you're gonna pee and fall asleep on the toilet like you always do when you drink."

"That happened _one_ time!" Rhys frowns. "Why are we picking on me? We were picking on Vaughn's terrible taste in movies a second ago."

"Your fear-boner for Handsome Jack is funnier," Yvette says with a shrug, clinking her glass against Vaughn's.

"I don't have a _fear-boner_ ," Rhys says with a huff. He downs his drink and slams the glass down on the table. "I'll show you both."

"I don't want to see your fear-boner, bro," Vaughn says, averting his gaze and covering his eyes.

"I'm not gonna show you my- Ugh! Screw you." Rhys stands and, stumbling slightly, stalks off to the bathroom. "If I die, it's all your fault." Rhys glares and points at them both, before stepping back and letting the door slide closed.

He can hear his 'friends' whooping and hollering on the other side of the door and pulls a face. He could just stand in here and pretend he was doing something, but he can hear clattering and drunken shooshing as Yvette and Vaughn stumble over to the door. There's a brief moment of silence before a high-pitched giggly _woooOOOooooo_ starts up.

"Real mature, guys," Rhys scoffs.

"Turn the light off!" Yvette yells. 

"Show Han'sum Jack your fear-boner!" Vaughn follows.

There's a soft thump, a snort, and more drunk giggling and Rhys doesn't even want to know what's happening out there.

Taking a deep breath, Rhys swipes his hand over the light setting and plunges the small room into near complete darkness. The edge of the mirror glows dimly with the outline of his widgets - date, time, calendar, news - and Rhys can barely make out his own features.

He grips the edge of the sink, leaning forward as the fear sends a cold sweat trickling down his spine. He takes a deep breath and whispers.

"Handsome Jackie."

The room remains dark and silent. 

"Handsome Jackie."

It's so dumb. Handsome Jack is gone. Nothing's going to happen. 

He squeezes his eyes shut anyway.

"Handsome Jackie."

He holds his breath, knuckles going white where he squeezes the sink. 

The room is still.

He hears nothing. 

Cracking an eye, he sees the blue glow cast over his hands and lets out a sigh of relief. He scrubs a hand through his hair and straightens.

"Hiya, Cupcake! Boo."

Rhys screams.

Everything goes black.

——

"Call medical!"

"Don't call medical; he can't afford medical! None of us can afford medical! We're gonna be billed just for thinking about medical!" 

"Stop saying medical! What do we do?"

Rhys groans.

"Rhys! Rhys, what happened? We thought you were messing with us but then you wouldn't wake up. Are you dead? Please tell me you're not dead."

"'m not dead," Rhys says rubbing the back of his head. "I think I hit my head."

"Trust you to injure yourself alone in your bathroom," Yvette says, running a hand lightly over Rhys' scalp looking for bumps.

"I wasn't alone," Rhys says, sitting up straight and staring at the mirror. "I did it. I did the Handsome Jackie. He was _here_."

"How _hard_ did you hit your head?" Yvette asks, tilting Rhys' head back to check his eyes. 

"That happened _after_ ," Rhys says, pushing himself to his knees and waving his hand in front of the mirror. "He was in the mirror. He called me _Cupcake_."

Yvette and Vaughn stare up at the mirror blankly. 

The digital clock ticks over from 11:53 to 11:54.

"Uhhh, ha! Heh, uhh..." Vaughn says, sharing a worried look with Yvette. "Funny. You really had us going there, bro."

"I almost believed you." Yvette rubs her hand over Rhys' head, ruffling his hair until he slaps her hand away. "You won, lunch is on me tomorrow."

"I swear he was right there. He was blue and see-through, like a ghost, but he was _there_." Rhys points at the mirror, insistent finger smearing over the digital mirror.

"Yeah, I think you've had a bit too much to drink, Buddy," Vaughn says as he gives Rhys' knee a comforting pat. "And that's coming from someone who's _definitely_ had too much to drink."

"Is it the stress?" Yvette asks. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Nobody on Helios is getting enough sleep," Rhys says, scrubbing a hand over his face and stepping back to sit on the toilet. He stares up at the mirror - still empty - and sighs. "Maybe... maybe I did imagine it."

"He's definitely not there now," Vaughn says, pushing himself up to stand on unsteady legs. "We've got work in a few hours. We should probably get some sleep."

"Yeah, I probably... just imagined it," Rhys says, forcing his gaze over to Vaughn and Yvette. "I'll walk you out."

"I got it." Vaughn waves him off, stumbling out to grab his jacket. "I'll walk Yvette home."

Yvette levels a look at Vaughn, shaking her head fondly and turning to Rhys. "I'll make sure he gets back safe. You take care of yourself, ok. Get some sleep."

Rhys watches as she escorts Vaughn out of his apartment, and sighs. All the late hours trying to keep up with Vasquez's demands must have been really messing him up.

He takes the time to clear up the mess from his small living area, chugs a glass of water, and heads to bed. Flopping face down on the mattress, he kicks his shoes off and falls asleep almost immediately.

When he wakes, his mouth is dry and furry like he slept with it open. He probably snored louder than a broken loader bot and he's going to get a nasty email from his neighbour to the right any second now. 

He stumbles into his bathroom and swishes some mouthwash, swirling it around and gargling it before spitting. Splashing water on his face, he rubs his hand over his chin and leans close to the mirror, checking if he needs to shave.

"Morning, Kitten!"

Handsome Jack's face appears in the mirror sending Rhys flying back and slamming into the wall.

"So, funny story, I was going to show myself out after that little performance last night, but don't you know, it's the darnedest thing - your mirror's digital uplink is broken," Jack says and Rhys can only stare slack jawed. "I'm gonna need you to fix it ASAP."

"You- You're-" Rhys stammers, hands scrabbling for purchase on the wall. "You're not real."

"Oh, I'm real, pumpkin," Jack says with a wink. "I'm just stuck in your freakin' mirror."

" _Why_ are you in my mirror?" Rhys says, fear slipping away in favour of utter confusion. "No. No, you know what? You're not real. I'm hungover. I'm overworked. I'm underappreciated, aaaand I'm hallucinating. I'm hallucinating."

"You're not hallucinating." An edge slips in to Jack's voice, cutting in a way that Rhys remembers from his frequent announcements years ago. "I'm-"

"You're _blue_ ," Rhys shouts. "You're _in_ my _mirror_. You're- I'm arguing with my mirror. I'm losing my mind. I'm-" Rhys cuts himself off and walks out of the room. 

Rhys gets ready for work on autopilot, actively not thinking about how his brain has decided that Handsome Jack is living in his bathroom mirror, and leaves his apartment. 

He goes to his cubicle, is yelled at by Vasquez, works until lunch, does _not_ tell Yvette and Vaughn that Handsome Jack appeared to him again, goes back to his cubicle, is yelled at by Vasquez some more, works well past quitting time, and doesn't leave until his eyes are burning.

When he gets home, he avoids the bathroom. He eats his dinner over the sink, brushes his teeth there as well, and praises his decision to pee before he left work. As a result, it's much earlier than usual when he strips off and crawls into bed. 

All he needs to do is take Yvette's advice and get a decent amount of sleep.

The morning sees him anxious about entering the bathroom, which is a new feeling for him and one he could very much live without. His bladder is screaming and the lack of a shower the previous day has him feeling especially fragrant.

Taking a deep breath, he steels himself and enters the bathroom.

"The whole 'wahh, I'm losing my mind' thing was cute in the beginning, Kiddo, but I'm gonna need you to hurry up and get the fuck over yourself, 'kay?" Jack says, glaring at Rhys from the mirror.

Rhys ignores him. He strips off and showers, pretending the irate shouting from his mirror is a recording from years past. Once upon a time, it would have been a turn on, but the knowledge that his brain is in the process of betraying him is killing any hint of arousal.

Finishing up, he wraps a towel around him and leaves the room, ignoring the threats he can hear coming muffled through the door.

He sits on his bed, still damp, and buries his face in his hands; whatever this breakdown is, it's confined to his bathroom. As long as it stays there, he decides, he can probably live a relatively normal life.

When he returns from work that night, he enters the bathroom.

"Hey, Jack," he says with a lazy wave.

"Oh, so I exist now?" Jack asks snidely. "You're acknowledging my presence? You- Are you pissing? You're pissing."

"It's my bathroom, Jack," Rhys says full of bravado, focussing on not losing his nerve. "It's where I piss."

"Cute. Could you, I don't know, _not_ until you get me out of here?" Jake gripes.

"Nope." Rhys finishes, shakes, and turns to wash his hands. "Because you're not getting out. Because you're not real."

"Oh, for..." Jack's image scrubs a hand over his face in the mirror. "I. AM. REAL. CUPCAKE." He shouts at Rhys. "And if you don't get me out of here I Am Going To _Murder_ You."

"Honestly, the way my life's going," Rhys says, staring at the mirror as he dries off his hands. "Getting murdered might be better than going insane. Later, Jack."

Rhys waves a hand and strides out of the room. 

Jack sputters and shouts.

The next week passes much the same way; Rhys ignores the fact that he's slowly slipping under, Jack threatens to peel his eyelids off.

"What do you have to lose by just letting me go? Huh? Why keep me here?" Jack asks one morning as Rhys brushes his teeth.

Rhys spits and looks at Jack thoughtfully. "What if I free you and then you're not just in my bathroom, you're in my bedroom, my office, my... everywhere?" 

Jack narrows his eyes. "You're really sold on the fact that you're going insane, huh? Nothing could convince you that you're holding me, Handsome Jack, hostage in your mirror?"

"Repeat that sentence back to yourself and you've got your answer." Rhys rinses and heads off to work.

"Is there _any_ way I can convince you?" Jack asks the next day, tone bordering on desperation. 

"Look, Jack, if I were trapped in someone's mirror, I'd want to get out, too," Rhys replies. "But you're dead. If you weren't dead, someone else would have already saved you."

"You'd think, wouldn't you," Jack huffs. "What do you think I've been trying to do since those morons down in R&D did this to me?"

"I don't know," Rhys shrugs. "If it's this easy to talk to you, wouldn't you already be working with someone to get you out?"

"I was _trying_ to communicate with them through their computers, like any reasonable person would," Jack says, crossing his arms. "Stupid me, I didn't think of hanging out in their bathrooms staring at their weird dicks."

"My dick's not weird," Rhys says with a glare. His subconscious is bringing out some really weird hang-ups he didn't even know he had. "Wait, why _did_ you come to hang out in my bathroom?"

"You called?" Jack throws his arms up in the air. "I was bored! And, y'know, curious. I thought it'd be like everywhere else and you wouldn't be able to see me. I was going to zip in, zip out, and get back to getting those assholes to rematerialise me."

"Why not go when anyone else did a Handsome Jackie?" Rhys demands, hating the fact that he's actually listening to his mirror's arguments.

"Because nobody does that?" Jack frowns. "Is that a thing? Do you think that's a thing? You're dumber than Mordecai's stupid bird."

Rhys blinks and shakes his head. Of course no one would be playing Handsome Jackie in their bathrooms, but by the same token, of course a figment of his imagination would say that. Something twinges in his mind but he can't put his finger on exactly what it is. He glares at Jack and walks out of the room.

"Wait! No, don't go!" Jack yells, but Rhys doesn't pause. As the door slides shut behind him, he hears a quiet, frustrated. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

Rhys works through the day, annoyed and off-kilter. There's something about what Jack had said to him that morning that is sticking and itching at the back of his head and it isn't until Vasquez calls him a dummy that the spark goes off. 

He spends the afternoon on the ECHOnet, dredging up information and gradually putting things together.

When he storms into the bathroom that night, he silences Jack's _Evening, pumpkin_ with a sharp noise.

"I don't know who Mordecai is," Rhys says, pacing in front of the mirror. "Or, I don't _think_ I did. I didn't know he had a bird, anyway. Maybe I read about him when they opened the second vault. Maybe I-"

"They what?" Jack asks and Rhys can't place his expression. "How did- They can't have. _I_ have the key. I have-"

"They found one and they killed the monster in the vault, it's been years," Rhys says, frowning. "Didn't you read anything while you were trying to get _rematerialised_?"

"I-... Years?" If Jack weren't a blue hologram, Rhys would be sure the colour had drained from his face. "How long have I been in here?"

Rhys regards Jack silently. Something isn't right here. Even if he is losing his mind, why like this? Why would his brain make Handsome Jack more... sad.

"Four," he says, watching Jack very carefully to decide his next move. "Four years. You never look at the date?"

"No, I- It didn't seem- Time moves diff-" Jack says, hand curling into a fist. "I gotta get out of here, kitten. There's things you don't know. Things I gotta take care of." 

"Tell me," Rhys says, straightening his shoulders and standing tall. "Tell me just _one_ thing only Handsome Jack would know. I need something to go on, Jack. If you want me to trust you, you gotta trust me."

Jack's jaw tightens and he looks away from Rhys, focussing on who knows what.  
"Project Paragon," he grinds out.

"I don't know what Paragon means," Rhys murmurs, backing away towards the door. "It's all in my head. You're not..."

"Stop!" Jack shouts, trying to reach out from the mirror. "You can't possibly know _this_. Nobody knows about this. Nobody knows about... her."

Rhys pauses and looks at Jack, mind ringing with confusion. "Her?"

"My daughter," Jack says, voice quiet and angry, but resigned.

"Daughter? Handsome Jack doesn't have a daughter," Rhys says, brow furrowing; if this really is all in his head, his head's throwing him a real curveball.

"But I _do_ , Cupcake," Jack says. "That's the _point_."

"If nobody knows about her, how am I supposed to prove she exists?" Rhys says, groaning in frustration.

"You won't find her, but there's a paper trail," Jack says quickly, trying to redirect Rhys from another round of self-doubt. "Check the intranet. Wait, even better, use my credentials: HJ4N631, password Pr1Nc355."

Rhys blinks at him. "That is the first thing you've said that makes me actually believe you," he says with a shake of his head. "When I get back, we are having a serious talk about your network security protocols."

Jack's soft laughter echos after him as he strides out of his apartment and heads back to work. 

It's quiet in the office this late at night, no murmured conversations or tapping of keys, Vasquez isn't throwing his weight around anywhere. If it were like this all the time, coming in to work might actually be... nice.

Rhys throws his jacket over the back of his chair and sits at his workstation, waiting for the intranet to load. If he wasn't actually half-convinced, he'd be worried about what it would look like; coming in to work after hours to access files he probably shouldn't be accessing. Best-case scenario, Jack's really real and Rhys helps bring the greatest CEO Hyperion's ever had back from the 'dead'. Worst-case scenario, they lock him up and he never has to deal with the Handsome Jack hallucination in his bathroom ever again.

So, kind of a win-win, really.

When the log on finally appears, Rhys takes a deep breath and enters the credentials he was given.

It works.

That should really prove it, but Rhys' stomach drops and he spends the next hour looking up as much information as he can about Project Paragon and then follows it up with a deep-dive into R&D following a vague train of thought he'd had niggling at the back of his mind for a few days.

When he arrives back at his apartment, it's clear that Jack knows he's back. He calls and cajoles Rhys until Rhys has to suck it up and face him.

"Project Paragon is real," Rhys says, staring at the floor in mortification. "You're real."

"Yes!" Jack crows. "Finally, we're on the same page. Now you've just got to let me out of here so I can get _out_ of here."

"I can't let you go, Jack," Rhys says, scrunching his face up so he doesn't have to meet Jack's gaze.

"What?" Jack's tone is murderous. His glare hard enough to cut diamonds.

"I cut the uplink wires when I moved in," Rhys says, turning away and scrubbing his hands over his face. 

"You _what_?!"

"I, uh, didn't want there to be a record of the, um, the porn, I was watching in here," Rhys says voice going raspy and dry.

Jack stares at him. "So, what you're saying is, I'm stuck in here because you wanted to rub your chub? In what, private? You know there's a record of you buying it, right?"

Rhys looks at the ground, he knows he's gone beet red. "Not all of it was, uh, legally procured."

"I'm trapped in a mirror because of contraband porn," Jack says, eyes dull and unimpressed. "Sweet fucking skagballs, what the fuck is my life?"

"The best stuff comes from Promethea!" Rhys says defensively. "If you hadn't embargoed the _entire_ fucking planet, this wouldn't even be a problem. So, really, it's all your fault."

"Promethea?" Jack says, eyes narrowing. "You've been watching Timmy getting railed! I _knew_ I should have sent Nish after him when he went rogue."

"Timmy?" Rhys asks, feeling blindly behind himself to flip the toilet lid down and sit on it heavily.

"Don't pretend you don't know who I'm talking about," Jack says, shaking his head at Rhys. "You know you want to tap this. _Everyone_ wants to tap this."

"Then why not let us live vicariously through porn, huh?" Rhys challenges, feeling like he's now losing it in a different direction: arguing about the merits of watching Handsome Jack porn with Handsome Jack himself.

"And let people get ideas? Nuh uh, kitten. _Nobody_ fucks with Handsome Jack," Jack growls.

Rhys blinks. He snorts. He blinks again. Then he _howls_ with laughter. His stomach aches and tears stream down his cheeks and he can't stop laughing at the indignance on Jack's face and the sheer irony of the statement.

"Stop laughing," Jack says with a glare. "Stop it. St- What- What is so fucking funny?"

"You-" Rhys curls over in a new bout of laughter and it takes him a moment to get his breathing under control enough to wipe the tears from his eyes and start again. "You embargoed an entire planet so no one could watch porn of one of your clones getting fucked so nobody would get the idea that anyone could fuck _you_ ," Rhys snickers again and takes a steadying breath. "But then because nobody could access it easily, you got stuck in a mirror and it ended up _right royally_ fucking you. That's, oh my god, holy shit, what a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Fuck you," Jack says, brow a confused, angry furrow. "That's not- Fuck. Fuck you. Who could have seen this coming? How-"

"That's why it's so beautiful," Rhys says, face tight and warm from mirth. "Holy shit, it's some mythological level hubris. Wow."

Jack glares at him and it just makes Rhys snicker harder.

"Laugh it up, kiddo," Jack says, crossing his arms. "The second I get out of here, I'll show you."

Rhys sobers instantly.

"Uh, I, um." Rhys clears his throat. "If I help you out of here, I'm going to need some assurances."

"Assurances?"

"Like that you won't kill me, or airlock me, or-" 

"Wait, what? Where did this come from? We were literally _just_ flirting," Jack asks, face a picture of indignant confusion.

"Flirting, Jack?!" Rhys sputters. " _Flirting?_? You just said 'the second I get out of here, I'll show you', like that wasn't a threat."

"A threat to _show you a good time_ ," Jack protests, a hint of a whine entering his tone. "With my dick. Because we were talking about how you get off to porn of me. So... y'know. I'll show you ... m'dick."

Rhys blinks.

And then he's literally rolling on the floor in fresh gales of laughter. He can barely see Jack from this angle, but he can hear him huffing and it just makes him laugh harder. He can't remember the last time he laughed like this, at least, not while sober. Every time he thinks he's settling down, his mind replays 'I'll show you... m'dick' and he starts laughing all over again.

"Nothing I say is going to make you calm down, is it?" Jack says, voice tired and resigned. "I've apparently been stuck in here for four years now, so what if my technique's a little rusty."

"Holy shit," Rhys says gasping for air. "That's your technique?! And it actually works??"

Jack levels Rhys with a look. "I might be trapped in a mirror right now, but don't forget you're talking to Handsome goddamn Jack. People bend over backwards to suck my dick."

"The dick that, heh, you're gonna show me," Rhys says, wiping his eyes and pulling himself up to sit on the toilet. "M'dick."

" _Anyway_ ," Jack says, tone pointed and insistent. "Now that you believe I'm, y'know, _real_ , we can work on getting me out of here. What do you know about electrical engineering?"

"Uh, enough to sever my mirror's outgoing connection to the echonet without stopping the incoming datastream," Rhys says with a shrug. "But that's just cutting a wire. Also, irrelevant, at least for the time being. See, while I was looking for Project Paragon, I did a little digging in R&D's inactive files."

"Inactive?" Jack asks, voice going low. "Did those bed-wetting pus-sacks shelf the project?"

Rhys clears his throat, looking down at his hands. "About three months after you went missing. You're classified as Killed in Action." 

" _Killed in Action_?" Jack asks, incredulous. "Killed by _inaction_ , more like. Every one of the incompetent little shitsticks on that project is going to be decorating Helios' outer hull when I get out of here. Which you're going to help me do _how_?" 

"Okay, so, I'm not going to pretend I know shit about the science of what they were doing," Rhys says, leaning back against the cistern and resting an ankle on his knee. "From what I read, they basically wanted to teleport a person from one place to another and then built an entire system to do so, fucking up a) the targeting system, hence you being caught in the beam, and b) the part where they _rematerialised_ the person."

"Sounds accurate so far, Kitten," Jack says, his image getting larger in the mirror as though he were leaning forward. "Where're you going with this?"

"They tried to reinvent the wheel. There's already a system in place to _rematerialise_ people. Well, digistruct them," Rhys raises an eyebrow at Jack. "I'm gonna download you onto a datadrive and shove you into a New-U."

"You're just going to _shove me into a New-U_!" Jack mimics, rolling his eyes. "That sounds pretty damn blasé about something that could kill me."

"Jack, as far as the rest of the universe is concerned, you're already dead," Rhys points out. "Besides, you're data now. Putting the drive in the New-U isn't going to erase you from it."

"And if it doesn't work?" Jack asks, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists. "You just leave me in a drawer and forget about me?"

"No." Rhys retorts, holding up a finger before Jack can lay into him. "Hyperion hasn't been the same since you di-... went missing. My best friend works in accounting and he says profits have been dropping for years. Everyone's walking around trying to be you, but the thing is... nobody _is_ you. They're just a bunch of self-important douchebags playing pretend. Everyone with the confidence doesn't have the smarts, and everyone with the smarts... well, they're in R&D and they're not allowed out."

"And you?"

"I'm just a schmuck down in Programming. Thought I was going somewhere, then you died and I got... shafted." Rhys shrugs. "Look, Jack, if the New-U doesn't work, I'll just plug you into the system and let you get back to it. I've got no interest in screwing you over. My life was better when you were in charge. I mean, there was a much higher turnover rate in upper management for one. Made promotions much easier to get."

Jack snorts. "Good times." He sighs nostalgically.

"So, look," Rhys says, changing the subject before Jack can get caught up reminiscing. "There's a station in R&D that should be pretty easy to access without getting caught. I think that's our best bet."

"Quick access for idiot disposal, too. Smart." Jack stares Rhys down, expression shrewd and calculating. "When exactly are you planning on pulling this jailbreak off?"

"Tomorrow night? Maybe. I need to find a datadrive big enough to hold you."

"You calling my datastream fat?" Jack asks seeming to settle back into a more relaxed mood. At the very least, he's not actively distrusting Rhys.

"Just your head," Rhys says then his eyes go wide. They might be sitting in his bathroom chatting, but Handsome Jack is not his _friend_. "I mean, because you're mostly head at the moment. Like, at least seventy percent."

Jack stares at him for a moment and starts cackling. "Holy shit, your _face_. You look so scared," Jack says around snickers. "I'm not going to _kill_ you, Pumpkin. Necrophilia's not my thing." 

Jack winks and Rhys feels a blush burning at his hairline even as his stomach flips.

"Right, well, um," Rhys stands and rubs his neck. "I am going to go to bed and, uh, I'll find somewhere to store you tomorrow. G'night, Jack."

"Sweet dreams, Cupcake." Jack gives a coquettish wave and fades away from visibility.

As the door slides shut behind him, Rhys cards his fingers through his hair and lets out a shaky breath. A low-level terror has taken residence in his chest since Jack became his reluctant roommate. As avoidant as Rhys is being, every so often it ripples through to rattle his precious calm. 

It's completely at odds with the thrill of arousal that runs down his spine with every flirtatious wink and comment.

Fear-boner, indeed.

Rhys pushes the thought from his mind and puts himself to bed. He's got to have his wits about him to smuggle a datadrive out of Programming.

—-

It's mid afternoon when he makes his move; he'd spent the morning buttering up the office manager. A twenty-minute conversation about how much he likes _Maglevs in Love_ and how he was running out of space for new episodes has her ushering him into the storage closet and showing him to the shelf of data drives Vasquez requisitioned and then never used. 

After the hell he put Yvette through to get them, Yvette would pop a vein if she found out they were just sitting there unused.

He grabs the biggest one he can find - under the guise of wanting all the episodes in one place but actually because he's not really sure how big Jack is - and smuggles it back to his desk. 

It's a tense afternoon of trying not to look over his shoulder every few minutes. Vasquez passes his desk multiple times, narrowing his eyes at Rhys' twitchiness.

He waits until well after Vasquez has left for the day to grab the datadrive and sneak out. He feels like he's in an espionage holo, trying not to look suspicious as he walks through the Hub of Heroism with his jacket wrapped around some contraband tech. Smiling and nodding at various people he vaguely recognises, he tries to stick to the edges of crowds and the few shadows cast.

By the time he slips in through his apartment door, he's got a cold sweat running down his spine and his hands are shaking. He walks straight to the kitchen and pours himself a drink, taking a shuddering sip and letting it slowly burn down his throat before gathering up the datadrive and heading into the bathroom.

"Hey, Cupcake," Jack says in a bright voice. "You got somewhere special to shove me?"

Rhys blushes, fumbling the datadrive. He can think of a few places.

"You better appreciate what I went through to get this," Rhys grumbles, setting it down and hooking it up to the port at the bottom of his mirror. "My boss is convinced I'm up to something, and the office manager thinks I'm obsessed with Maglevs in Love."

"Wow, tough break, Kiddo," Jack drawls. "Totally beats being dematerialised and living in a computer for years before being trapped in a mirror. Sucks to be you."

"Fair," Rhys concedes as he stands and dusts his hands off. "Okay, so, I don't actually have an interface to work with, can you, uh, _see_ the drive?"

Jack frowns and looks around. "Uhh, No. I don't- oh, no, there. I see it. So, what? I just go... in it?"

"I guess?" Rhys shrugs. "It's my first time transferring an entire person."

"Fine, so I go into it, and then what?" Jack asks, looking off to the side at something Rhys can't see.

"Then I take you down to R&D and shove you into the New-U." Rhys avoids looking at Jack for too long. He's not actually sure his plan has a chance of working. Getting Jack out of his mirror, sure, that part of the plan is probably going to go ok providing Jack actually gets into the drive. 

The part where Jack gets a new body digistructed? Who knows? Possibly a complete pipe dream. Maybe the data-drive will explode. Maybe the digistructed Jack will have three arms and the IQ of a skagpup. Maybe it'll all go fine, but Jack will immediately murder him. Maybe Rhys will end up as a new ornament for Helios' outer hull.

There are just so many possibilities and most of them end horribly for Rhys.

He has to admit, part of him still doesn't believe this is actually happening. It's why he never mentioned it to Vaughn or Yvette. It's why he's so willing to stake everything on shoving Jack in a New-U. Sure, he had Jack's credentials to log into the intranet and get access to R&D, but a stopped watch is right twice a day, a million monkeys typing for a million years will one day type all of Fifty Shades of Gravy. Maybe it's all some bizarre coincidence.

Or maybe it never happened it all.

No part of this scenario has Rhys saying 'Yes, this is solid reality and I believe in it'. And the more he thinks about it, the more reluctant he is to go through with it.

"-ening to me, are you? You in there, Kitten? Hello?" 

Jack's voice comes to him and he realises he's been staring off into space for a while.

"Sorry, just, ah, mentally working out the best route to R&D." Rhys says, clapping his hands together to distract from his inattention. "You ready to do this, Jack?"

"You sure you can't just reconnect the uplink?" Jack asks, still eyeing whatever it is he sees as the entrance to the datadrive. 

"I wouldn't trust a pair of wires twisted together, and I don't know the first thing about soldering," Rhys says. "This is literally your best bet, Jack, trust me. The sooner you're in there, the sooner you're _out_ of there."

"Trusting people is what got me into this mess," Jack mutters in a bitter tone. "Okay, so... I'm going in. See you on the flip side, Cupcake."

Jack salutes and walks off the edge of the viewable surface of the mirror. The drive makes sounds like data being recorded and then there's silence.

"Jack?" Rhys asks into the quiet of his bathroom. It wouldn't be the first time Jack had pretended to not be there. "Handsome Jack sucks." He waits. Nothing. " Handsome Jack's so ugly nine times out of ten his own right hand turns him down.” Still nothing. "Handsome Jack once lost a Handsome Jack lookalike contest to a dead rakk on a stick." 

Convinced, he unplugs the drive, winds the cable up and takes it out to set it down on the counter in his kitchen.

Handsome Jack is no longer in his bathroom. 

Rhys is free.

He could just put the drive in a drawer and forget about it. He could pretend there wasn't a period where he questioned his own reality. He could go back to working for Vasquez, day in day out, talking about Maglevs in Love with Maria the office manager, and feeling like it was just a matter of time before he cracked.

Rhys downs the rest of his drink, checks the time, and bundles the drive into a bag. 

There's a part of him that desperately wants Jack to be real; that wants his mind to not be losing its grip on reality. He wants to plug the drive into the New-U and for Jack to pop out and set to making Hyperion the company it once was, the company he'd dreamed of working for. 

He wants Jack to not be dead.

Shouldering the bag, he strides out into the hall. The hour is late and he passes few people. There's a cleaning crew in the Hub of Heroism, moving between the planters and chairs, cleaning up the detritus of the day. There's no one on the path to R&D. 

The lights are down low when he gets there, the distant screeching of stalkers in the distance the only thing he can hear over the low hum of the air filtration system. He walks the halls for a while, trying to get a sense how many people are around. 

By the time he feels comfortable enough to try, it's well past midnight. There's no camera near the New-U station so he takes his time walking around it looking for a panel or somewhere to jack Jack in.

He knows he's seen people doing maintenance on them, running diagnostics. There's got to be a port or a panel he can open. He runs his fingers all over the yellow device until he finds a small protrusion. He pulls it and pushes it but it doesn't pop open until he presses it and leverages it in the right direction.

When it opens, he finds a series of ports and a small screen, which awakens to show a basic interface. He clicks through the options, learning the system until he's somewhat confident that he can, at the very least, get Jack into the buffer.

Kneeling, he takes care removing the data drive from the bag and setting it down. The cable unravels and he plugs it first into the station and then into the drive. He finds the drive on the station and sets about transferring Jack's partition to the buffer, biting his lip as though the mere act of breathing near the drive could cause corruption.

It takes much longer than he'd like. Jack had slipped so quickly onto the drive that he hadn't expected to spend twenty minutes watching the percentage gradually tick over. By the time it finishes, he's practically vibrating with anxiety. 

Once he can see Jack's data sitting in the buffer, he tries to work out how to activate the digistruction. There's no actionable item in the interface, it seems to be externally triggered but Rhys can't figure out how to recreate that trigger. He's practically tearing his hair out trying to work it out when the station hums to life.

A pair of blue grids run horizontally and vertically creating a shape and bringing Jack to form before his eyes. 

Rhys falls back, hitting the wall with a thump and holding his breath. Jack is coming together before him - his hands, his hair, his arms and legs - and still Rhys can't be sure that this plan will work. Will it be Jack, or just a figure of Jack? Is this even happening at all? Is his brain just creating what he hopes to see? 

Is he still sane?

The last details are coming into view - Jack's waistcoat and shoes, the white stripe in his hair, his gun - and then he's standing on the floor in front of him.

"Hot damn, Pumpkin," Jack says, patting his hands over his body. "You did it. I'm back, baby!"

Jack holds out a hand to Rhys and he can't help but stare at it. His heart beats faster as he reaches out, skipping a beat as he grasps solid flesh.

"You're real," Rhys breathes as Jack hauls him to his feet. "You're really real."

"Of course I am, Kitten," Jack says spinning him around and pulling him close, grabbing a fistful of his ass. "Unf, do you have _any idea_ how long I've wanted to do that? You've been parading naked in front of me every morning for _weeks_. Goddamn tease."

"Holy shit," Rhys whispers, eyes wide - he'd treated Jack like he wasn't really there for so long, showering and pissing and _existing_ in front of him. "You're _real_."

Jack is so close and warm and solid against him and Rhys' hands are moving of their own accord. He's clasping Jack by the back of the head and pulling him into a kiss.

A kiss that is enthusiastically returned.

"Mh, yeah, we are absolutely going to pick this up later," Jack says, squeezing an ass cheek as he pulls away. "Right now, I've got a station to remind who's boss."

Jack pulls away and strides towards the Hub of Heroism leaving Rhys to scramble after him. 

There's no one in the hub when they arrive, which is probably a good thing considering how few shits Jack is giving. They make it to the elevator to the CEO's office - _Jack's Office_ \- without incident, and Jack spends the entire trip looking Rhys up and down like he's a piece of meat.

"Y'know, the visual translation matrices of the mirror didn't quite manage to capture just how leggy you are," Jack says, biting a lip as he stares. "Or the exact shade your cheeks turn when you're embarrassed. I'm gonna have to get on to programming to fix that shit. You are a _treat_."

Rhys doesn't manage to say anything before the elevator dings and they're at the hall leading to the main office. 

He's still hurrying to keep up, Jack is like a force of nature whipping through the corridor and they're in the office before he can blink.

Jack pauses to look at the view of Elpis, the scar marring the surface glowing bright purple, then he's turning an absolutely wicked smile on Rhys, pressing a button and leaning over the desk

"Wake up, shitsticks," he booms and Rhys can hear a distant echo down the hall. "Handsome Jack here, you may remember me from I OWN YOUR SORRY ASSES. And you'd _better_ be sorry, because Grieg, Larkstrom, Asif, and Brookner _murdered_ me four years ago and now you're _all_ gonna pay. Ah ah ah, I know what you're thinking 'But _Handsome Jack, I was just peacefully sleeping and going about my life, what does this have to do with me_?' Everything, Pumpkin, _everything_. Y'see, the Big Boss is back and things are about to change in this shithole you've all made of my company. Whoever took over and redecorated my office, get your affairs in order and report to airlock B13; we're going to have a little conversation about why you're fuckin' stupid. _Handsome Jack out_."

Jack stops the broadcast and lets out a whoop, clapping his hands and spinning in place. "It is _good_ to have a body again, Kitten. Lemme tell ya, being able to touch yourself is severely underrated."

Rhys snorts, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Now that the adrenalin from the rush to free Jack and get him to his office is fading, he feels a little shaky and overwhelmed.

"You know what else is underrated?" Jack asks, hip cocked as he leans against the edge of his desk. "Touching someone else." He gestures to the space between his legs. "C'mere."

"You, ah... you gonna show me a good time?" Rhys steps forward, letting out a startled laugh as Jack hooks a finger into Rhys' belt loops and tugs him closer. 

"I'm gonna show you m'dick." Jack winks as he trails his fingertips down Rhys' throat.

Rhys huffs out a laugh. "Lucky me," he says, looking up at Jack as he rests his hands on Jack's legs. "What makes you think I want to see it?"

Jack leans in close, lips brushing soft and teasing against Rhys'. "I have a few ideas."

"Step apart and put your hands in the air!" The shout comes from the other side of the room and makes Jack's hand curl into a fist beside Rhys' face. 

"Who _the fuck_ ," Jack grinds out, standing straight and moving Rhys aside as he turns to the door. "Do you think you are to tell _me_ what to do?"

A group of guards stand in the doorway, guns drawn but faltering as a susurrus of whispers runs through them. _It's him. Jack's back. It's really Jack._

"Move!" A yell comes from the back and a tall man in a robe with side swept ash blonde hair sweeps through. "Arrest this imposter! Handsome Jack is _dead_."

"Larkstrom," Jack growls, eyes going cold and narrow as he draws his gun. "I honestly thought it was pure incompetence that got me filed under _Killed in Action_. Looks like _someone_ had _aspirations_. Wanna let me in on your little plan? Tell me how you managed to pull it all off? Gloat a little?"

Larkstrom's gone white as a sheet, ramrod straight with his hands clenched into fists by his sides. He opens his mouth to speak when a gunshot goes off.

"Oh wait, I don't care," Jack says, staring at the hole between Larkstrom's eyes. "Hey, Cupcake, something's come up and I'm gonna have to take a raincheck." Jack pats Rhys on the cheek and strides towards the door. "Why don't you get yourself home and I'll call ya sometime, k?"

Rhys watches Jack stalk across the room, snapping his fingers at the guards and bidding them to follow him, barking orders as he goes. It's a matter of minutes before it's silent in the office. He sees the group enter the elevator and he's not sure if he imagines Jack wink before the door closes.

He casts one last look at the view of Elpis, shoves his hands in his pockets, and makes his way home.

He should be grateful to have gotten this far. Less than two hours ago, he was desperately hoping that he wasn't insane. Now he has the vindication that Jack was, _is_ , real, and that he helped bring him back.

It's cold comfort when he crawls into bed that night.

The next day Vaughn drops his lunch tray across from Rhys in the cafeteria, staring at him wide eyed. "Did you hear? _Jack's back!_ "

Rhys glances up at him, before moving his noodles around in his bowl. "Told you he was in my mirror," Rhys says and the next mouthful tastes like ashes.

"What?" Vaughn frowns at him a moment before his face twists into baffled confusion. "Your mirror? That was _weeks ago_."

Rhys shrugs, avoiding Vaughn's eyes and keeps eating.

"Bro." Vaughn sits down heavily. "You want me to believe that you had Handsome Jack in your mirror for weeks and didn't tell anyone about it _and_ managed to get him out without anyone knowing?"

"Yup," Rhys says, popping his P. "You guys didn't believe me the first time I told you. I wasn't sure _I_ believed me. Wasn't completely sure until last night."

"What happened last night?" Yvette asks as she slides in beside Vaughn.

"Last night I shoved a datadrive containing Handsome Jack into a New-U station and brought him back from the dead," Rhys says, staring at Yvette tiredly. 

"Wait, he really was in your mirror?" Yvette asks with a raised eyebrow. "That'd explain why you forgot I owe you lunch."

"You owe me a month of lunches for this," Rhys says gesturing at her with his fork. "You're welcome."

"If things start getting better around here, I will buy them _happily_ ," Yvette says, raising her cup in a show of respect.

—-

The next two weeks pass with no word from Jack. Rhys tries to pretend it doesn't mean anything to him, but he'd come so close. 

_So_ close to getting into Handsome Jack's pants. 

"Something's wrong, Bro," Vaughn says at lunch one day. "You seem depressed."

Rhys shrugs, elbow resting on the table, cheek pressed against his fist. The movement jostles his head but he doesn't say anything.

"You've been like this since Handsome Jack got back," Yvette says, eyes narrowing shrewdly in his direction. "Are you _pining_?"

Rhys glances at Yvette and drops his head to the table, thumping it against the surface a few times.

"Boy, you've got it _bad_ ," Vaughn says with a snort.

"He said he'd show me his dick," Rhys whines. "Do you know how long it's been since I've seen a good dick?"

"I'm eating here," Vaughn says with a frown.

"He asked for a raincheck after he killed Larkstrom and went off with the guards," Rhys says, pushing himself to sit upright and continue his lunch. "Said he'd call me."

"Wait, you were _there_ when he offed Larkstrom??" Yvette says, cutlery clacking against her plate as she drops it. "What happened?"

"It was so hot," Rhys says with a sigh. "I mean, I wasn't looking at Larkstrom at the time, that was probably gross. But _Jack_? Holy shit."

"You remember when you were afraid of Jack?" Vaughn asks, shaking his head. "You were less creepy when you were afraid of Jack."

"I'm still afraid of him," Rhys says, returning to his meal. "Now, I just think he's not going to actively try to hurt _me_."

"Except for the fact that he hasn't called you," Yvette counters.

"Except for the fact that he hasn't called me." Rhys sighs.

Rhys mopes around for another week, trying to move on but feeling a little stab of betrayal and regret with every cheerfully malicious announcement Handsome Jack makes.

There's rumours he's been hunting down the last of the R&D team who murdered him. Larkstrom went that first night. Grieg the next day. Brookner survived for a week in the vents, and there were reports that Asif had ridden some moon-shot down to Elpis and was hiding amongst the bandits.

Rhys ignored as much of it as he could. He'd started watching Maglevs in Love and was surprised that he actually enjoyed it. He'd had multiple conversations with office manager Maria about it, which had had the added benefit of absolutely infuriating Vasquez.

He's eating ice cream and watching the eighth season finale when his door chimes. He walks backwards to the door to continue watching the episode and eating his ice-cream. 

"This better be good, Vaughn," Rhys says as he keys open the door. "Maglev Mike seriously took their relationship off the rails this time."

"Well, sign me up for some shunting, Kitten."

Rhys turns, spoon halfway to his mouth. "Jack," he says, eyes going dull. He shoves his spoonful of ice-cream in his mouth and returns to the couch.

"You call that a Hero's Welcome?" Jack asks, pushing himself off the wall and following Rhys. "In the spirit of reciprocity, all the assholes who killed me have now been killed." He holds his arms out as if waiting for cheering but his shoulders slump when Rhys just stares at him. "What has gotten into you, Cupcake? I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Rhys shakes his head in disbelief and stares at the TV. "It's been a month, Jack."

"Really?" Jack squints at him. "Huh. I've been down on Pandora. Days so long they send you _crazy_ ," Jack says, flopping down beside him on the couch. "Well, I got no distractions now. No chance of being pulled out, so to speak, to take care of business."

"You said you'd call." Rhys stabs at his ice-cream.

"You're doin' this, huh?" Jack says, kicking his feet up on Rhys' coffee table and stretching his arms over the back of the couch. "I gave you little shoutouts in my announcements when I could. That wasn't enough?" Jack nudges Rhys' shoulders with his fingers, poking until Rhys shrugs him off.

Rhys looks at Jack out the corner of his eye. "I stopped listening after the first week." He frowns and turns to look at Jack directly. "Nobody said anything to me about it."

"You think I was just gonna throw in a 'by _the way, I can't stop thinking about having those legs wrapped around me while I'm balls deep in heaven, Handsome Jack out._ '" Jack snorts and ruffles his fingers through Rhys' hair. "I was subtle."

Rhys raises an eyebrow.

"What? Hey! I can be subtle! I'm a fucking master of subtle," Jack says with an indignant jut of his chin. He gives Rhys a sly look out of the corner of his eye. "But, seriously, do you wanna see m'dick?"

Rhys snorts out a startled laugh. "Truly masterful." A shiver runs down his spine as Jack trails a finger down his neck, circling his tattoo.

"So, hey. Always wanted to know... this a hint, Cupcake?" Jack asks, leaning in and pressing his lips into the centre of the circle.

Rhys's body shudders and he tries not to let out a whine because _yes it absolutely fucking is_. 

What he says instead is "My ice-cream's gonna melt."

"I'll get you more ice-cream," Jack murmurs into Rhys' neck, bringing a knee up onto the couch and twisting until he can hold him in place as he presses wet kisses to the most astoundingly perfect place.

"I- ha- _ah_ \- I have work in the morning," Rhys says half-heartedly, leaning his head to the side to give Jack greater access. "My boss will l- lose his shit if I'm late."

"I'll get you a new boss." Jack's hands move down, skirting along Rhys' torso until he grasps the hem of Rhys' t-shirt and pulls it up, lips disengaging from his neck as he pulls it off over Rhys' head. "Stuck in that mirror, watching you every morning, couldn't stop thinking about tasting you." Jack murmurs as he returns to Rhys' neck, arm snaking around Rhys' waist to pull him close.

"Keep touching me and I'll be your buffet," Rhys says, hands scrabbling to hold Jack in place.

Jack stops moving and then there's a huff of air against Rhys's skin.

"You'll 'be _my_ buffet'? Oh, Kitten," Jack sniggers into Rhys' neck, arms tightening and pulling Rhys back until he's straddling Jack's lap. Burying his face in Rhys' neck, he laughs helplessly and harder still when Rhys flicks him on the back of the head.

"I say one thing in the heat of the moment," Rhys says, voice unimpressed as he stares over Jack's shoulder. "At least I have the heat of the moment as an excuse, Mr. 'I _‘_ ll _show you m'dick'_." 

"The offer still stands, Cupcake," Jack says around his laughter, raising his head to wipe tears from his eyes. "Any time you wanna see m'dick."

Rhys pulls a face at Jack and flicks him on the forehead this time. "What do you think I've been _trying_ to do, Jack? If I don't get to see your dick in the next five minutes I'm kicking you out and there _won't_ be any more chances."

"Mm, Bossy. I like it," Jack says, standing suddenly and dumping Rhys down on the couch without ceremony. Slipping his coat off his shoulders, he pulls out a tube of lube and tosses it on the couch, giving Rhys a quick wink.

"No wonder it took so long to copy you to the New-U." Rhys scoffs, not taking the bait. "You're wearing, like, eight layers."

"I'm wearing five," Jack says, tone snippy as he pulls his waistcoat and hoody over his head and throws them to join the jacket. "It's a good look."

"It's _a_ look," Rhys says, settling back on the couch to watch the show.

"It's a _good_ look, Cupcake, and you know it," Jack says, removing the last layers and revealing his chest and shoulders. 

He's covered with a myriad of small scars and cuts, scattered across his torso and arms like a map to a life lived without fear. Jack puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest.

Jack is posing for him and Rhys is lapping it up like he can't get enough. 

Mostly because he can't, actually, get enough.

Rhys opens his mouth to speak, a low gravelly sound coming out in the place of language. He clears his throat and tries again. "If I wanted to see your tits, Jack, I'd've watched a Promethean Holo," Rhys says with a grin, letting his legs fall apart so Jack can see that the view is not unappreciated.

"The top has to come off before the bottom," Jack explains, giving Rhys a look like he's talking to a particularly dim child. "Take the pants off first and I'm just standing here looking like a toddler. Lemme tell ya, _not_ sexy." He kicks off his shoes as he steps closer, fingers toying at the button on his trousers.

"Show me sexy then, Jack." Rhys cups himself through his sweats and waits for Jack to continue.

"You want a show, huh?" Jack pops open the button with his thumb, running it under the waistband and touching his stomach with slow deliberate strokes. "You wanna see some skin?"

"You said you'd show me a _good time_ , Jack, but so far all I've seen is a wardrobe change."

Jack huffs and draws down his zipper, watching Rhys as his breath catches and giving a smirk. "Oh, I'll show you a good time," Jack murmurs as he works his pants down over his hips. "I'll show you a _real_ good time." 

Rhys watches as the pants drop to the floor and he finally gets a glance at Jack's dick. It's nothing like the holos but it doesn't matter because he's got Handsome Jack's dick a foot away from his face and his mouth is watering like he's never tasted cock before.

"Like what you see?" Jack asks in a smug tone, kneeling on the couch and cupping Rhys' cheek.

"About damn time," Rhys mumbles, leaning forward to drag his lips over the tip. He mouths his way down the column, feeling himself fully harden as he listens to Jack's low voiced words of encouragement. He looks up as he works his way back to the tip, capturing Jack's eye and holding his gaze as he swallows him down.

Jack's smile draws wide and pleased, hand curling to cup the back of Rhys' head. "That's it, kitten," he says, fingers pressing firm against his scalp. "Don't think it felt this good last time someone sucked me. Must be the new body. Mmh, sensitive."

Rhys closes his eyes and ignores the prattle falling from Jack's lips, losing himself in the feeling of Jack heavy in his mouth, the hand on the back of his head guiding him, deeper, deeper still. He's holding Jack's hips to keep balance, fingers tracing over warm skin lightly marred by scars even this low down, and Jack's over him murmuring _just like that, swallow it down_ and Rhys is trying to oblige but he's out of practice and he can only whine as he grips Jack's hips.

"Easy there, Kiddo," Jack says as Rhys pushes too far and coughs involuntarily. 

Rhys pulls off and throws Jack a dirty look, coughing until he can speak clearly. "Gonna have to ask you to not call me _kiddo_ with your dick in my mouth."

"Fair," Jack says, pushing Rhys until he falls back on the couch. "What say we get you up to speed?"

Rhys frowns, confused, but then Jack's kneeling between his legs grabbing him by the ankles and hauling him close. Jack's hand sprawls flat over Rhys' stomach, before sliding down and curling into his sweats and yanking them off, tossing them over his shoulder. 

Jack runs a hand firmly over Rhys' calf and drapes the leg over his shoulder, curling the other leg around his waist.

"Do you have any idea how often I dreamt of this on Pandora?" Jack asks as he grabs the lube and squeezes the tube. "This is the thing that kept me going; knowing I was going to be coming back to _this_." 

Jack covers Rhys' body with his own as a slick finger traces Rhys' hole, swallowing Rhys' gasp as he braces himself on the armrest and preps Rhys with speed and confidence. 

Rhys' fingers grasp at Jack's arms, digging into the soft flesh over tight muscle, nails leaving red marks in their wake. He's panting into Jack's mouth and Jack's biting his lip and two fingers aren't enough but he doesn't have the breath to ask for more.

"That's it, open up for me, Kitten," Jack murmurs into his skin, teeth dragging against his cheek. "Give me _everything_."

Rhys whines, raising his hips and grinding down on Jack's fingers. "Get inside me, Jack, I need it, I need-"

"What do you need? Tell me, Cupcake," Jack demands, drawing back to look Rhys in the eye and crooking a finger just so.

Rhys arches his back, pushing down to get more of Jack's fingers. "Your _cock_ ," Rhys moans. "Jack, please. _Please“_

Jack draws his fingers out, wiping them off on Rhys' thigh. He hooks Rhys' other leg over his shoulder and practically bends him in half as he leans forward, rising up on his knees and lining himself up. He catches Rhys' eye, holding the gaze as he pushes forward, breaching him slowly with restraint Rhys didn't know Jack could ever have.

"Don't close your eyes," Jack commands as Rhys starts to lose himself in the sensation. "Look at me." Jack bottoms out, rubbing a hand firmly up Rhys' thigh to keep him grounded. "Stay with me, Kitten."

Jack starts to move, hips rolling slow and deliberate, watching Rhys' face for every reaction, every minute change. He's waiting for something, wanting. The hand not holding Rhys' leg comes up and braces on the armrest beside Rhys' face. 

"Tell me what you want," He murmurs, leaning in close. The weight of his body stretching Rhys' leg further and driving Jack deeper. "Tell me what you _need_."

Rhys grasps Jack's neck and drags him down, kissing him harsh and rough. "I want you to fuck me," Rhys rasps into the smooth plane of Jack's masked cheek. "I _need_ you to fuck me."

Jack grins, feral into Rhys' lips, "Little confused about what's happening here?" He draws his hips back slowly and returns them with a sharp snap that makes Rhys moan and laugh breathlessly.

"Little confused why you're treating me like I'm gonna break." Rhys kneads Jack's shoulder, fingernails scratching lightly at taut skin. "I'm not gonna break, Jack."

"Not this time, Kitten," Jack breathes into Rhys' skin, snapping his hips again. "Not this time."

Rhys laughs, letting his head drop back as Jack sets up a steady, driving rhythm. He feels Jack's lips against his throat, sucking that perfect spot. He holds Jack's head in place, feeling electricity running through his body from his neck to every point Jack touches, his arms and legs and torso and that one place deep inside. That place that's making him see stars and clutch at Jack's back even as his fingers slip in the sweat pooling on Jack's spine, the sweat that's slicking his torso and making Jack's stomach slide against him providing the friction he needs the friction he craves. The pressure's building deep inside him getting stronger and tighter and making his voice catch at the back of his throat and he wants to tell Jack, wants to let him know, wants him to be with him, wants him to follow over the precipice that he's falling fleeing _flying_ from. 

"Jack," Rhys says, voice breathless and desperate as he drags Jack's head off his neck. "I'm so close. I want- I need- _Jack_." Rhys reaches between them and wraps his hand around himself, capturing Jack's lips and kissing him rough and sloppy as he pushes himself over the edge. He breaks away with a cry as he comes, feeling Jack's forehead press hard into his own to watch him spill between them.

"Fuck, yes, that's it, Kitten," Jack growls and then he's pressing his face into the crook of Rhys' neck and driving to find his own release. The force of his thrusts push Rhys up against the armrest and Rhys has to wrap his arms around Jack to hold on. 

Rhys kneads Jack's back, murmuring encouragement and dirty nothings into Jack's ear even as his back aches and his legs burn. Jack holds Rhys' hips in place as the smack of flesh on flesh echoes through the small room. He grunts with every thrust, a low, rough sound that builds and builds until it's cut off with a shout and a gasp. Jack's back arches, muscles going taut as he pushes up into Rhys' body, hips stuttering as he fills Rhys before collapsing, limp and spent against him.

They lay together, breathless and sweaty, a tangled knot of limbs. Rhys' legs slip off Jack's shoulders, one coming to hang over the back of the couch, the other falling to the floor. His hips ache with a pleasant burn, well used and well spent. He feels Jack soften and slip out of him, groans at the mess he can feel himself making of the cushion below.

"Ew, you've ruined my couch," Rhys says, trying to clench but feeling that it's no use.

"I'll get you a new couch," Jack mumbles into Rhys' neck, patting his side in a vaguely apologetic way. "Next time you can ruin mine," he says, pushing himself up to sit beside Rhys, running an idle finger through the mess on his stomach. "Your furniture's shit."

"Hey," Rhys complains with an indignant glare, watching as Jack pushes himself up and walks out of Rhys' view.

"Ugh, I hate your bathroom," Jack yells over his shoulder making Rhys snort. "We're never staying here again."

Rhys raises an eyebrow but refuses to question it. "Why didn't you invite me over to your place tonight?"

"They're still fixing Larkstrom's shitty decorating and finding my stuff," Jack says, coming back and throwing a wet cloth at Rhys' face. "If he did anything to Buttstallion I'm going to dedicate R&D to resurrecting that fuck so I can kill him all over again."

Rhys cleans himself off, not saying anything; he'd always kind of thought Buttstallion was a myth, but apparently not. He assumes the things he doesn't know about Handsome Jack are vast and numerous.

"Hurry up and get cleaned up," Jack says opening the doors off his living area until he finds Rhys' bedroom. "I've got a long day of restructuring ahead of me tomorrow."

Rhys pauses, cloth hovering over his belly. "You're staying? Here?"

"Just said my place isn't ready," Jack says and Rhys can hear his sheets being thrown back. "Besides, every day starts better with a blowjob and, Cupcake, I bet you taste _divine_."

Rhys frowns as he leverages himself off the couch and finishes cleaning himself off in the bathroom. When he walks into his bedroom, Jack is on the far side of the bed, facing the wall.

"Jack," he begins, tone delicate as he structures the question in his head. "What's my... Do you even know my name?"

Jack huffs and looks over his shoulder. "Really, Kitten? You're asking me _now_?"

Rhys glares, crossing his arms and cocking his hip as he waits for an answer.

"Get into bed, _Rhys_." Jack rolls his eyes, slapping the mattress behind him. "How do you think I got your address? You think I typed 'leggy, hotass with terrible personal style' into the HR database? I read your mail the entire time I was stuck in your mirror, dumbass. Or did you forget that that's how we met?"

"I- Oh," Rhys says, chastened. He moves on autopilot, climbing into the bed and laying on his back staring at the ceiling. "My style isn't that bad."

Jack snorts. "I thought you'd tucked your tie into your pants until I realised it was just the design of your shirt." He looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. "Get over here." Reaching behind him, he grabs Rhys' arm and pulls until Rhys' arm is around him and he's pressed close to Jack's back.

Handsome Jack is his little spoon.

Rhys has to press his face into Jack's back to stop whatever this feeling is from coming out his mouth as a high pitched noise. Jack pulls Rhys' hand close to his chest and squeezes it, and Rhys feels a laugh bubble out of his mouth before he can stop it. He can feel Jack in his arms, but he still can't quite believe that all of this is real.

"Handsome Jackie," he murmurs into Jack's back, hearing him snort. 

"Handsome Jackie," he repeats, feeling Jack squeeze his hand once more.

"Handsome Jackie," he says it one last time, pressing a kiss to Jack's spine.

"Boo," Jack says and Rhys can hear the smile in his voice. "Still real. Not going anywhere, Kiddo. Go to sleep."

Rhys closes his eyes, breathes Jack in, and sleeps. Jack will still be there in the morning. And Rhys will be right there with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Had a super rough day that started with stitches and fainting, so any and all kudos and comments are beyond appreciated right now.
> 
> Maglevs in Love is from Animal Crossing and Tom Nook is threatening to sue.


End file.
